Has it been 7 weeks?

Yes, it has. Today is exactly 7 weeks to the day. 9 whole months came and went 7 weeks ago! Morning sickness (which for me was all day sickness that lasted 9 months) food aversions, prenatal checkups, relief at hearing the heartbeat, ultrasounds, feeling faint little flutters which evolved into strong, coordinated movements which evolved into little pokes as the space got to be less and less, shortness of breath, the neverending need to urinate, heartburn, stretchmarks, insomnia, cravings for vinegar-soaked croutons, baby showers, tiny toes wrapped around sore ribs, fear, uncertainty, excitement, curiosity, hormones... all of that is now just a distant, distant memory, almost a dream compared to this new reality dominated by sleepless nights, sore nipples, saggy skin and lots and lots of serious lovin' on a fuzzy little head. I'm a mother! I have a beautiful 7-week-old daughter!

And now is as good a time as any to finally publish the story of how she came into the world.

It was decided about 3 months before her birth that she would be a c-section baby because that way the dr. wouldn't have to wait for me to recover from giving birth to be able to do the exploratory surgery that I needed to have. I prayed that I would go into labor before the scheduled date and that I would be allowed to deliver vaginally, because I had my heart set on a natural childbirth, but that was just a fantasy because I would have probably just had an emergency section anyway. So, on the morning of November 8th we took a couple final belly pictures before heading to the hospital. I got NO sleep that night. I was thirsty as hell and afraid that something would happen to the baby before I got a chance to meet her.





The c-section was scheduled for 8:30 am, we got to the hospital at 6:00 to do the paper work and then they started prepping me. I had a terrible nurse who should have retired long ago because she's clearly burnt out, but that's another story... I remember every moment from the time we walked through the doors to the moment we left, but I have a hard time putting it into words. Too many emotions. I just kept thinking how surreal it seemed that I was having a baby and secretly worried that something bad was going to happen... I was scared out of my mind but tried to forget the fear by making jokes. At one point my mother showed up and I felt awkward. Luckily they told her she couldn't be with me during surgery.

As promised, they came for me around 8:30. Itty Bitty's heart was beating away as she wiggled around inside of me, completely unaware of what was about to happen. I had to walk to the OR, which made me feel vulnerable. I started to shake as I assumed the position for the spinal, but as soon as it went in I started to feel warm and tingly and relaxed... It was about 8:40 when they cut and all the sudden I heard "Go get the husband! We're gonna have a baby!" Hubby came in and sat down next to me, and all the sudden a baby started crying. The dr. held her up over the curtain so we could see her and then Hubby went with the nurses to give her a bath and weigh her and show her to my parents who had followed her cries to what they thought was the nursery... The pediatrician who first examined her told me she was perfect and a short while later Hubby brought her to me, all bundled up and needing her mommy. And what did I do? I started vomiting. (It happens a lot during c-sections, I've been told)

They did what they needed to do in my pelvic region, removed the right ovary and tube and also part of the left, and some of the surrounding tissue to be biopsied. Then, they put my innards back in, stapled me back together and took me to recovery where I held Itty Bitty for the first time.

Miriam Louisa (aka Itty Bitty) was born at 8:48 am, weighing 7 lbs. 15 oz and measuring 20.5 inches. As many times as I've told this story, I have never managed to convey how awesome the experience really was, and how awesome it has been being mommy to someone so... awesome.
Welcome to the world, baby girl!

10 perfect fingers, 10 perfect toes... my mouth, her daddy's eyes, ears and nose...












What are YOU thankful for?

nesting, nesting 1-2-3!

T-4 days to go and I can't seem to get the place clean enough! I've spent the past week trying to wash invisible spots off the walls. I guess now would be a good time to tackle the actual clutter in the baby's room of all places... I had to clear a path just to get to the dresser to put away all the little undershirts.... after I'd washed them for the 15th time, that is. God help me!

Have I become a monthly?

It's kind of starting to seem like that... The truth is, I've been putting off writing about my Labor Day weekend and explaining about how Itty-Bitty tried to turn like a good little 3rd-trimester fetus should and ended up with her hard little baby head right on my cyst, causing me a lot of pain which sent me to the ER 3 TIMES, because that's how many times it took to convince them that I was not in labor, not having contractions, but that I was in a lot of pain which could NOT be round ligament pain and definitely could not be sciatica but hey, what do I know? Well, on Labor Day I actually was having contractions so I went back to the ER yet again and was put on modified bedrest and ordered to start maternity leave ASAP because my contractions were being caused by stress (like, maybe the stress of having to go to the ER 3 times because no one beleived that I was really in pain, hmm...) Anyway, that's the long and short of it. Itty Bitty will be born on the 8th of November, plucked from my womb just like Julius Caesar, but it beats the alternative. My doctor is afraid of me laboring with the cyst. I'm just afraid, period. All the sudden it dawned on me... 17 days from now I will be the proud owner of a newborn baby! And.. my blog will have to change, because I will no longer be expanding, I'll be shrinking, or at least I hope! So, if any of you are still with me and aren't suffereing from baby brain, give me some ideas! What should I call my new corner of blogosphere?

The past month in a nutshell (but make that a really big nut) Part 1

One month ago today: We started working around the clock to get our delapidated (sp?) 19th Century sorry excuse for an apartment into good enough shape that we would at least be able to fool the landlord long enough to get our security deposit back. By "we" I of course mean Hubby and my father. Though I was there to lend my moral support.

August 14th: "We" removed the last of our belongings from that dive and turned in our keys, thus becoming homeless for the next 3 days. Confused? Read on..

August 15th: Woke up damn early to drive 50 miles from where we had spent the night at my parents' house since we were homeless and had no where to sleep! This is what happens when you live in a college town... Virtually all rental leases end at midnight on August 14th, and begin sometime after noon on the following day. I know, that comes out to about 12 hours. So why 3 days, you ask? Well... I hung around until 1pm when I could sign in and pick up the keys to the new place, which I arrived at only to be greeted by an eviction notice on the door and a mess inside. Turns out the original tenants who were immaculate housekeepers had illegally subletted the place to pigs who hadn't bothered to move out any of their stuff... Dirty dishes in the sink and the refridgerator, clothes in the closet, handcuffs hanging from the doorknob on the bathroom door, cigarrette butts all over the floor throughout the whole apartment, ash ground into the carpeting, which, by the way, had also been destroyed by cats, presumably because no one ever bothered to clean the litterbox. How do I know? Yep, you guessed it. THEY LEFT THAT THERE, TOO!

August 18th: I'll save you the gory details, but finally, after 3 days of getting the runaround, a very sympathetic agent who just happens to have 5 kids and 10 grandkids finally convinced the agency to come in and clean out everything AND change the carpeting before we moved in. She even picked out a nice inoffensive beige-y color.

(I will spare you all the stories of the other myriad difficulties I've had since moving in here regarding phone service, DSL service, phone service again and yet again...)

I spent the next couple of weeks nesting, relaxing, and getting ready for the semester... until Labor Day weekend, that is.

To be continued...

Got milk?

Why yes, as a matter of fact I do. And it inspired a night of weird milk-related dreams. Actually, I don't know if they were several dreams, or just one really long confusing one. Anyway, it started out something like this... I had my Itty-Bitty, and like a good mother I was going to feed her. Now, I had 2 options. One little oddly-shaped bottle which was formula, and another identical bottle which was, supposedly, my breasts. Hubby told me that she preferred the formula and didn't want my breast, so I decided to give it a try myself.

I took Itty-Bitty and the 2 bottles and sat down in my huge, luxurious armchair. Suddenly, 2 of my high school friends appeared and asked me for a piece of pizza which had just magically appeared hidden beneath some magazines which had just magically appeared on the floor. I was outraged by their audacity and told them that I was a lactating woman with increased caloric needs and that no, they could not have my pizza. And then I remember feeling incredibly guilty.

Meanwhile, little Itty-Bitty had only drank a few drops of milk from my "breast" and I was getting worried. Then somehow I discovered that she just wanted to "nurse" standing up, so I propped her up on her little feet in the corner of the huge, luxurious arm chair (which alternated between eggplant-purple and olive-green) and gave her the bottle.

Then, in what was either a separate dream or a continuation of the first, I had to go pick my husband up from work. So, I took Itty-Bitty, put her in her car seat (which was a giant stuffed sheep) and put her in the Land Rover (NOT my dream car, by the way). We had to go through many a check point, remember some passwords and speak in tongues on the way to Hubby's work. Once there, a co-worker who was wearing hip-waders and carrying a pitchfork told me that Hubby was going to be a while yet and that he was eating his pizza and had a stomachache. So, I thought, no problem, I'll just go to Jumbo ( the Portuguese equivalent of Wal-Mart, but with better wages and employee benefits) and do some grocery shopping. So, I parked the Land Rover and went into the store. I had to take several conveyor belts to get there, though. The place was about 9 stories tall, and every floor was a different country. I recall being in "Spain" when I decided that I would just go home and wait for Hubby. Went to parking ramp, couldn't find Land Rover. Oh, what the heck, I thought. I'll just walk home. Wait a minute... Itty-Bitty's in the car, so I can't just leave it here! So.... I started retracing my steps. Finally, I remembered that I'd come in through some little shop selling weird glass things. Suddenly it wasn't a shop. It was some friends' of our family where we usually have Passover dinner. And I wasn't looking for the car and Itty-Bitty... I was looking for my wedding ring!

And then I awoke in a cold sweat! No, not because I was frightened at the prospect of having lost my wedding ring, but because Hubby was also having his own weird milk-inspired (or shall I say breast-inspired) dream, which involved being chased and then abducted by aliens who would have impregnated him with an alien baby had it not been for me, who saved him at the last minute. And he was so grateful that to thank me, he had to grab my breast, which scared the hell out of me.

...And after all of this, I have only one question: What kind of mushrooms did I put on that pizza I made last night?

Sweet dreams, everyone!

Fwd: I know we're not there yet but we must anticipate the future

I have just reveived the most unsettling e-mail forward from my mother, which was sent to her by an old college friend that she just reunited with this past weekend. It came under the subject heading I know we're not there yet but must anticipate the future and to be honest, I was wondering why the heck my mom would send it to ME, of all people, until I read it and realized My God, I'm already there!

SENIOR DRESS CODE

Many of us "Old Folks" are quite confused about how we should present ourselves. We are unsure about the kind of image we are projecting and whether or not we are correct as we try to Conform to current fashions. Despite what you may have seen on the streets, the following combinations DO NOT go together And should be avoided:

1. A nose ring and bifocals (So far so good... I lost the nose ring back when I was about 16)

2. Spiked hair and bald spots (No bald spots for now, though I've heard that after the baby's born there are times when you can't help yourself from pulling out your hair. And I know that that stubborn little lock of hair on the back of my head that has revolted and started growing in the opposite direction of all the other bajillion hairs on my head is gonna be the first to go!)

3. A pierced tongue and dentures (Thank God, I have neither one nor the other)

4. Miniskirts and support hose (I think the baby's the only one who's gonna be wearing anything "mini"around here for a while... As for the support hose, I've thought about it, but it's too hot for that right now.

5. Ankle bracelets and corn pads (Did I mention that I can no longer see my feet and ankles?)

6. Speedo's and cellulite (Well, I have to fight with my Brazilian husband to get him to NOT wear his Speedo, and when it comes to cellulite, I'm guilty. That would make a lovely postcard, wouldn't it? )

7. A belly button ring and a gall bladder surgery scar (No belly button ring but I don't need one because I've got an outtie... it's something to consider though, after they take this blasted ovary I'm sure I'll have a lovely scar.)

8. Unbuttoned disco shirts and a heart monitor (Dreadful mental image)

9. Midriff shirts and a midriff bulge (Oh yeah, I've got a nice midriff bulge)

10. Bikinis and liver spots (No liver spots, how about stretch marks and heat rash?)

11. Short shorts and varicose veins (Once again, guilty as charged. .. Of having varicose veins, that is. Not of wearing short shorts.

12. Inline skates and a walker (How about inline skates and a stroller? Ooh, did I say stroller? I mean TRAVEL SYSTEM)

And last, but not least (drumroll.....)

13. Thongs and Depends (All the thongs are packed away and I'm gonna need Depends if my beloved little midriff bulge doesn't stop using my poor little bladder as a punching bag!)

And now if you'll excuse me...